Viking King Page 14

  “I’m the Earl of Mercia, but I’ve also had personal relationships with the last four kings of England. They’ve grown to rely on me as a man of my word.” It was not a clear answer, but Leofric wasn’t prepared to take full responsibility for what had happened after Cnut’s death. Harald may have been his foster-son, but it had been Cnut’s oath that had guided Leofric’s decision.

  “I remember your father,” the words Lord Edward spoke surprised Leofric. “I remember your brother as well. Your family have played dangerous games in the past, staking much on the value of your oaths.” Leofric waited for more, anticipating a complaint. “But then, you’ve interacted with some tricky characters, my mother amongst them.” This surprised Leofric, Lord Edward’s ready acceptance of his less than straightforward answer.

  “If I come to England, I would want some assurances that like Harthacnut, I wouldn’t have to spend much time with my mother, if any at all. I can’t forgive her for her meddling that cost my brother his life. I would need that to be understood by everyone.”

  Leofric nodded. He’d anticipated this, even if he felt as though he betrayed Lady Emma by agreeing so readily. He didn’t envy any members of the complicated House of Wessex and the House of Gorm family.

  “And I would bring my nephew with me, and ensure he’s also provided for in the future. I’ll not make Harthacnut’s mistake and travel to England entirely without my family and with some obscure Danish lords.”

  “Of course. And I’m sure that there must be others you might wish to travel with. I’m allowed to authorise a total of twenty men who will form your personal entourage, be they warriors or courtiers. King Harthacnut doesn’t expect you to come alone.”

  He’d expected these words to be greeted with relief, but instead, a worried glance from Countess Godgifu alerted Leofric that he’d erred. Perhaps Lord Edward was truly as bereft of allies as it appeared.

  “Then I’ll think about my half-brother’s request and let you know in the next day or so. Until then, please be welcome in Bolougne. Your men are welcome to stay in the hall. The reeve is a particular ally of my brother by marriage. He’ll provide all that you need.”

  Leofric bowed his head, accepting the invitation, before realising what it implied.

  “Will you not be staying in Bolougne?”

  “No, not on this occasion. I’m staying elsewhere, permit me to keep it a secret from you. But know I’m not far from Bolougne and will return as soon as I can.”

  With that, the three members of the family stood, while Leofric, caught by surprise, struggled to jump to his feet. Without a backward glance, Countess Godgifu, Lord Edward and Ralph left the reeve’s hall, and a strained silence rapidly filled the void of their conversation.

  “Strange,” Orkning offered the single word from behind as Leofric sank back to his chair. It had been bizarre, and there was no denying it. Without waiting to be invited, Orkning took the seat that Lord Edward had been using.

  “Those two hundred men who supported Lord Alfred, perhaps that was all the men that thought the two brothers had a reasonable chance of returning to England. Or someone just had only enough to afford that many.”

  Orkning was toying with a plate of food brought to him, his blue eyes clouded with uncertainty.

  “I suppose with William only being a youth in Normandy, it’s hard to find support there.”

  “Yes, but do people not realise that there’s no other option should Harthacnut die without leaving an heir? I would have expected everyone who was anyone to have tried to tie himself or herself to Lord Edward’s cause. He could reward them all finely with lands and estates in England, just as Cnut once did with all his Danish followers.”

  Leofric nodded. Orkning was right in his summary.

  “Perhaps Lord Edward has none of the charisma needed to bring men to his side. He is hardly a warrior, and at the moment he’s reliant on his sister, and his nephew to support him. Of them all, it’s his nephew who has the greatest resources. Lady Godgifu might call herself a Countess, but she’s no such thing, not since her first husband’s death. Here she’s merely the wife of the Count’s son, and they’ve been married for some time, and the union has not been fruitful.”

  “Well, if you excuse me for saying as much, the king has none of that talked about charisma, and yet he has many loyal supporters.”

  “Harthacnut rules through fear, not charisma. It’s a different thing.” Leofric dismissed his argument.

  Orkning grunted his agreement.

  “It’s a very different thing. If the English weren’t so desperate for a king, I doubt they’d have accepted him. He has none of his father’s charm, his grandfather’s blood-lust, or even his mother’s ability to befriend people and use them to her own ends.”

  Leofric refused to be baited, knowing he was included in the list of Lady Emma’s victims. Their relationship was far from equal, but at the moment, he was in the ascendant, not her. And, if he managed to bring Lord Edward home, he might grow ever higher in the king’s estimations.

  What would happen if Lord Edward refused, was not worth considering at the moment?

  “Then, we must wait and see what’s decided. The men will be pleased to spend more time in Bolougne. The harbour is far friendlier than at Sandwich, or even in London. Harthacnut allows too many of his Danish allies to profit at the expense of the English. There’s outrage from the English, and a constant threat from the Danish that violence could erupt at any time.”

  Leofric nodded at Orkning’s words. It was true. The English-Danish who’d helped him and Ælfgar retrieve Harald’s body from the Thames were far from favoured by their Danish king, even though they had a shared heritage. Instead, Harthacnut preferred to bring new men to England, Danish men he could rely on, as though he somehow hoped to turn England into Daneland.

  If the king weren’t careful, there would be bloodshed, and Leofric knew that the king’s response would only escalate the problem.

  “Yes, we’ll enjoy our time away from England, and hope that we’re gone for too little time for any problems to occur.”

  Orkning chuckled darkly at the hope, and Leofric understood why. It would take very little to ignite the growing unrest.

  Lord Edward returned the following evening, surprising Leofric. He’d fully expected Lord Edward to take all of the allotted time to reach his decision. Once more Countess Godgifu and Ralph, and also another man accompanied him. Leofric deduced it was Countess Godgifu’s husband. If Lord Edward had chosen to return to England, it would mean that he no longer had to provide for his brother by marriage and his step-son.

  The other man was taller than Lord Edward, and also younger. His steps were those of a warrior, and Leofric immediately decided he liked him.

  “My Lord,” Leofric bowed as he greeted the family of Lady Emma, the rest of his men in the reeve’s hall rushing to do the same. The reeve had provided good food and ale and been content to trade news about the places that concerned him. Leofric had spoken at length of the English nation’s interactions with the kingdom of the Scots, the Welsh and even the Dublin Norse.

  The time had passed quickly enough.

  “Lord Leofric, retake your seat, please. It seems there’s more that we must discuss.”

  This wasn’t precisely what Leofric had been hoping to hear, but he inclined his head in agreement all the same.

  “I’ve consulted Lord Eustace, his father, the Count, as well, and while the terms are mostly agreeable, it’s to be hoped that you could provide more details about my role within England. I’m keen to assist my brother, of course, but I’d be leaving my dear family behind. It must be a worthwhile endeavour.”

  Leofric nodded, trying to decide what to say. The king had been unspecific, no doubt because he wanted to make his decisions when he’d assessed Lord Edward for himself. Until then, Leofric had no idea what Harthacnut would decide.

  “My Lord, as I said, the king means to provide you with the means to support yourself and to g
ive you a position close to him. You’ll be acknowledged as his heir, should anything happen to him, which it’s to be hoped, it doesn’t.” Even as Leofric spoke, he realised it was too little information, but he wouldn’t lie to Lord Edward.

  “But will I have the power to truly make decisions about those honoured by the crown? I speak, of course, of Lord Godwine and Lord Ufegat. I can hardly be expected to make them allies. They killed my brother. They should be punished.”

  “Lord Ufegat is already dead if that helps.”

  “But what of his sister, King Harald’s mother? I would wish to ensure she’s punished as well.” The thought of revenge seemed neither to excite or worry Lord Edward, instead, it just seemed to be something he felt he needed to do, to honour his brother.

  “King Harald’s mother has not been seen since his funeral. Her home in Northampton has been abandoned. Or rather, it’s now in the hands of others. I don’t believe that any of the conspirators would trouble you, apart from Lord Godwine. Still, the king has punished him and received the wergeld for your brother’s life.”

  “I’ve heard of this ship, and the men used to buy Earl Godwine back into the good graces of Harthacnut.”

  “I would hardly say that Lord Godwine is restored to the king’s favour. If Earl Godwine died now, all of his lands would revert to the crown, other than those that were held by Godwine before King Cnut’s reign, and that’s only a small stretch of land in Wessex.”

  “But the family are wealthy, there are sons and daughters who own land in their own right?”

  A glint of something other than boredom had entered Lord Edward’s eye, and Leofric didn’t know him well enough to decipher its meaning.

  “I believe that the older sons were left land by their mother’s brother, yes, Earl Eilifr. But, while the land is in Mercia, it’s not significant. Earl Eilifr’s earldom, as Earl Godwine’s will, has mostly reverted to the crown since his untimely death.”

  “I would not wish to have any dealings with the family. I’m surprised my half-brother didn’t banish the family.”

  “My Lord Edward, Lord Godwine was put on trial, he had men and women vouch for him that he acted only on the orders of King Harald. Harthacnut was forced to accept such oaths as being truthful. Earl Godwine doesn’t deny his involvement, and neither does Archbishop Ælfric, but both men have reached an accord with Harthacnut.”

  “And I would be unable to demand further retribution?”

  “I believe you would need to discuss that with the king. I’m not able to say what is in the king’s heart.”

  Lord Edward leaned back into his chair, his hands drumming on the wooden arms, his gaze intense.

  “But surely you would thrill to have Earl Godwine cast aside? Think of what it would mean for your future, and that of your son and grandsons, nephews as well. If the House of Godwine were banished from England, you would surely benefit?” Lord Edward’s words were softly spoken, almost as though he didn’t care about the answer. Still, his busy fingers attested to his true feelings.

  “My Lord, I’m the Earl of Mercia, powerful and influential in my own way, but I’m not the King of England. Whatever my personal opinion toward the House of Godwinesson, I serve my king and England first. I would not harm England for my own gain. It’s not the way of my family. Our loyalty is always assured.”

  A tense silence followed, Leofric refusing to break his gaze on Lord Edward. It felt as though much depended on how Lord Edward responded to the answer. Leofric doubted he’d said the right thing, but he’d been truthful, and for him, that was all that mattered.

  “I can see why you’ve served so many kings,” Lord Edward eventually said, his fingers finally falling still.

  “If I return to England, will you be my ally or my enemy?”

  Leofric considered the question carefully before he answered it.

  “That will depend both on your decision on whether to return to England or not, and whether you see any gain to being my ally. It might be that you decide to despise my House as much as you do Godwine’s.”

  “Then I’ll just have to come to England, and then we can find out one way or another. But know this Lord Leofric, while my family is grateful to you for your support of our father, mother and brother, there’s only so much gratitude. It might well run out at the most inopportune of times.” Leofric accepted the words with a brief nod of his head.

  “And, My Lord Edward, know that as of yet, you’ve extracted no oath from me. My loyalty remains with the king.”

  Leofric fixed the slightly younger man with a firm stare and yet, despite the words, he could detect no malice in Lord Edward, none at all. Lord Edward was being guarded, and with his years of political acumen, Leofric could only respect such a stance.

  Harthacnut would have been wise to adopt the same attitude to England, instead of making such a decision before he became its king. It would have made his kingship more pleasant. For everyone.

  Chapter 12

  AD1041

  Ælfgar

  His father had left him in command of the Mercian lands, and Ælfgar was determined to rule as justly as his father always did. And yet, he was aware of the unease that rippled in each and every settlement he travelled through.

  Word of events in Worcester had percolated their way to the ears of every Mercian. Despite Wulfstan and Ælfwine apprehending the actual murderers of the king’s reeves, three opportunistic Welsh men, and presenting them to the king, complete with confessions, there had been no apology from Harthacnut. Neither had the king retracted his demand that the geld be doubled, and include the wergeld price for the dead men.

  And now, Ælfgar couldn’t help but think that Harthacnut sending his father to speak with Lord Edward was far from an honour. Instead, it seemed a punishment for losing control of the unruly Mercians, even though Worcester had long been Earl Hrani’s to govern.

  Ælfgar feared that he’d do the same, and so against his better judgement, he rode to visit with his mother.

  Lady Godgifu had retreated far from Winchester, where Harthacnut had settled for the summer, and Ælfgar appreciated her sentiment. If she was so far from Harthacnut, then it was unlikely she would fall foul of his petulant demands.

  And Lady Godgifu had made no secret of her true feelings toward Harthacnut.

  Ælfgar found his mother at Coventry, pacing around his parents’ fine hall there. The look on her face almost made him turn and stride back out of the door, but he stayed firm.

  “Lady Mother,” he bowed his head to her, and yet her steps didn’t falter, and so he stood and watched. It was rare to find his mother so excited about anything. He wondered what had happened while he’d been on the road from Oxford. Surely, Ælfgar considered, he would have seen any messengers from the king.

  “Ælfgar,” abruptly his mother stopped before him, her eyes raking his face, and seemingly content with what she saw, resumed her pacing.

  Ælfgar watched the swish of her dress around her legs as she made tight turns, noting her clenched fists, and the set of her jaw.

  It always shocked him to realise his mother’s hair was beginning to thread with silver, amongst the lighter tones, and that fine lines had appeared on her forehead and around her keen eyes.

  “Are you going to tell me, or must I guess?” Ælfgar eventually asked, beckoning a servant for ale, and drinking it down in the time it took his mother to once more meet his eye.

  “Coventry.”

  “Yes, that’s where we are,” he agreed. “What of it?”

  “It’s poor, and it’s filled with Danes, and still Harthacnut is determined to beggar it.”

  “The people of Coventry have sought your assistance?”

  “Yes, they have. They’ve asked me to intervene on their behalf. The harvest was devastated last year and the winter long and cruel. Many people have already died, and even more will before this damn geld can be paid.”

  Ælfgar held his shock in place. It was not at all like his mother to sh
ow any feelings towards the men and women of Mercia and the privations they sometimes endured. What, he considered, had changed?

  “It will be a repeat of Worcester if your father isn’t careful.”

  “It’s not my father’s fault that the king taxes the English as much as he does.”

  “It is, he agreed to it, and he refuses to intercede for the people who are most at risk.” Lady Godgifu rounded on Ælfgar, her eyes hectic and filled with fury. Ælfgar seated himself before the hearth, unsure how to proceed. He’d not expected his mother to add herself to his list of worries while his father was absent from England.

  “The earls had little choice. You know that,” Ælfgar argued.

  “But they have a choice now,” Lady Godgifu was furious as she stabbed her finger at him.

  “What would you have father do? He’s already rebuilding Worcester with Earl Hrani. The king has offered nothing as compensation, even now he knows that the Welsh killed his precious reeves. And, remember, Lady Mother, father has been forced to forward the money to the king, in lieu of the lack of geld collected by the king’s reeves. Our father is paying twice for everything already.”

  “Then he must pay a third time as well. He’s the Earl of Mercia. His responsibility is to Mercia and not to this damn Viking King.”

  Hastily, Ælfgar turned, shocked by his mother’s vehemence, but every servant in the hall had long served his family, and none would repeat the words spoken in frustration.

  “Lady Mother, you need to compromise with the people of Coventry. Tell them Lord Leofric does all he can for them, and that they must be patient until his return, and try and pay as much as they can.”

  “But when will he return? The king has sent him on some foolish embassy to Normandy or Bolougne or the Vexin, I hardly know where, and in the meantime, the king’s reeves are greedy bastards. They’ve learned nothing from Worcester. People are worried that the children will be taken away and sold into slavery, and that they’ll lose what few possessions they do have.”